Recover the glue
by MyLittleStorys
Summary: They did it, they actually got Annie back. Set after season 2 finale.
1. The wolf

**Here's a wee story I'v set up after the gang have got Annie back. There are a LOT of really good stories happening out there just now! Hope you enjoy it.P.S I own nothing but this story.  
**

In the CENNSA facility, everything had started off so impatiently slow. Without warning a tornado swept in and destroyed everything in its path, their essence of normality, their family.

George was doing what he did best; moving on and forcing all unpleasant feelings into a lockable box. There was too much to think about…believing there was a cure for the 'curse', Tully...Mitchell. No, he did not want to know what Mitchell had done, that was can of worms definitely not to be opened anytime soon. Mitchell, well he was completely hollowed out now. Just sat and simmered in a concoction of blood lust, guilt and rage.

Annie would have wanted George to bring back some normality. He got a job, their new house, though it felt like nothing could ever be the same again. The only thing keeping them going was the determination to get Annie back. Failure was not an option.

When George didn't keep himself busy, Annie's 'suicide note' would ring in his ears, a constant reminder of how shit a friend he had been. If he allowed recent memories to resurface, if he caved in, the dreams of Annie's screaming form being dragged into a black nothingness would replay constantly. It was up there with some of the scariest moments of his life. He should have known his best friend was lonely and desperate, how could he have been so blind?

He never did tell Mitchell about her goodbye tape. It would probably drive Mitchell literally over the unstable edge he was already clinging to.

Now, he stood in the living room of their new cottage home with Mitchell and Nina, mouth open, all eyes on Annie. They did it, they actually got her back.

* * *

And here she stood, their Annie, in the present, arms wrapped tightly around her; grey hood pulled up, head twitching back and forth as she examined every detail of her surroundings. She seemed so unsure of everything, almost lost.

Silence filled the room like a thick blanket. She looked haggard, exhausted and run down. Her unusually dull form was frayed at the edges, and her hair clumped around her blank face.

George was chilled to the bone as he studied her expressionless face, and yet her eyes were wide, panicky and unfocussed, frantically darting about.

This wasn't the Annie he knew. Their Annie would crack inappropriate jokes about their damp living conditions and provide a smile that would shatter all problems into the next millennia. If she would just smile, he would know everything would be ok again.

He watched her touch the few items scattered about the room, the armchair, a red jumper; she almost made an inaudible 'um' noise.

.The silence was becoming unbearable and George coughed unnecessarily to break through. His eyes felt red raw from all his celebratory tears and he tried desperately to sound calm, "Annie, do you know what happened? You're back now, it's ok".

Her scanning eyes suddenly stopped and focussed on George, face remaining passive. She opened her mouth but no sounds emerged, as though she had forgotten how to speak.

George sputtered as Annie continued to absorb her surroundings, occasionally glancing towards Mitchell.

George rubbed the bridge of his nose, unsettled by Annie's odd behaviour, speaking aloud to no one in particular, "Why isn't she speaking? Annie always talks; it's impossible to shut her up, she talks and talks…" He just needed someone to say everything is ok.

A gentle squeeze on his arm reminded George that Nina was right beside him. His inch high private eye had pulled together the pieces into finding Annie. She spoke reassuringly, "He said it might take her a while to get used to things, she just needs some time baby".

Annie picked up the discarded newspaper lying on the table, briefly looking over the front page.

George took the moment to look over Mitchell, just at his side. He noticed Mitchell's hands kept reaching out to Annie, itching to touch her, but he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets in doubt.

She was wary of Mitchell. He held back, and George new all Mitchell wanted was to hug the life out of her, but he let her settle.

Mitchell's raspy voice called out her name, startling George. As Mitchell stepped forward, Annie visibly stiffened, stepping back and dropping the paper to the floor. Her uncharacteristic rejection crumpled Mitchell back as though a physical blow had hit him. George was completely miffed by it all and similarly took a step backwards.

Annie closed her eyes and her forehead crinkled into delicate lines of worry, breaking her frozen face. She stepped forward and suddenly hugged George, who did not respond at first from the unexpected movement. Of course he returned the hug and warm tears slid down his cheek. She wasn't cold, before she always left a chill, but today she felt normal.

Releasing the hug, Annie stood before the window, running her hand against the cool glass, leaving a clammy palm imprint. George allowed Nina to tug him over to sit on the couch.

He couldn't remove his gaze from his two friends: Annie staring out the window and Mitchell watching her intensely. Whatever had happened between them previously would be dealt with the next day. George would overhear a massive argument between the pair, echoing from upstairs. Well, he could mainly here Annie shouting. Mitchell responded at first, but obviously knew better. He'd never heard them engage in such a heated debate before. After hours of silence upstairs, they were fine, having resolved whatever the hell they were arguing about. George only caught random words or names, and he was positive "Herrick" was mentioned at some point.

George's eyes were glued. There was some sort of connection between the pair, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Mitchell ran a tired hand over his face and Annie finally turned, eyes more focussed, less searching, looking into Mitchell cautiously. All hostility had washed away, as Mitchell inched closer, hesitantly raising an arm to pull her hood down and gently pushed a strand of Annie's hair from her eye.

George knew he should avert his gaze from this private moment, but he couldn't. Annie made a 'hum' noise in response to Mitchell's touch, which encouraged him to pull her into a tight embrace. Mitchell buried his head into her hair, which slightly muffled his crying. If George didn't hold such a close friendship with Mitchell, he would be uncomfortable with his openness.

The pair remained entranced for a while. George felt Nina gently stroking his head. Later, Nina would have her turn. He'll find Nina sobbing apologies into Annie's embrace while Annie coos her to hold no responsibility. For now, it's the boys turn.

Mitchell lifted his head and allowed Annie to guide him over to the couch, where she sandwiched between the two, squeezing George's hand, while Mitchell played with the moonstone ring on her right hand.

Over the next few days, following their argument, George would study the interaction between Annie and Mitchell with curiosity. He would notice Mitchell always watches Annie, in a non creepy way and would never lose physical contact, always with an arm wrapped around her waist. He would notice the playfulness; the little things like Annie fixing Mitchell's hair (George vividly remembers Mitchell stating in the past that no one touches the hair). Mitchell was never the clingy type before, but it seemed oddly natural for the pair. As he ponders these thoughts to Nina, she will laugh at him for being cutely oblivious to the 'signs', as she called it. Much high pitch stuttering followed as George put two and two together.

Until then, Annie's lips twitched into a tiny, sad smile, and the tears came as she finally crumbled, shell broken. All George can do is hold onto her as sobs racket her fragile form.

Tears now finished, Annie wipes her face with her cardigan sleeves, looks about and produces a genuine smile, "Oft, we'll need to do some serious decorating here".

He can feel his heart jump with happiness as he realises now, they can all start to heal.


	2. SheWolf

**Heyo! So firstly, thank you for the reviews! I've got 2 more chapters after this (they should hopefully be better than this one!). Had to really cut this one down. Enjoy! P.s. I dont't own BH. **

Huddled in a thick wool jumper, Nina leaned casually against the kitchen counter, cradling a steaming mug of coffee. She really needed the coffee; Annie had returned two days ago and an emotional, exhausting two days they had been. Inhaling the deep aroma, Nina tried to steady her racing mind, listening to background chit chat.

Four months ago Nina would never have imagined she'd be living in the shadows of a freezing damp cottage in the middle of nowhere with her werewolf boyfriend and his vampire best friend, both morning the loss of their Annie, a ghost would you believe. And, she was werewolf too.

God, a werewolf! That wasn't something you prepare yourself for. When George gave her the curse, she'd held up ok at first, hell she continued on at work! Until the reality set in, hitting her full force, traumatizing.

Sometimes Nina had to pinch herself, remember she was lucky she had not been alone. Three supernatural beings had ushered her into their sanctuary, wanting to do nothing but help. And how had she repaid them?

Maybe she had been naive to believe there was a cure. If it could be spread, surely it could be counteracted. She believed in the sciences, couldn't wrap her head around the physiological implications. Maybe her nursing background was why Nina so readily trusted Lucy. She didn't believe in the faith, but in the science she could try. God how wrong had she been?

Mitchell resented her for what happened, as did she. At the same time she felt anger towards him too, how could he be so hypocritical?

When she looked at Mitchell, really delved into his character, she was torn. There was a balance to Mitchell, good versus bad, but were they really two different personas? At one point she tried to imagine fighting against the werewolf transformation in the full moon, wondering if that was anything like Mitchell fighting the blood lust. His entire nature repulsed her. Thankfully she had never met John Mitchell.

Mitchell was the charmer, and a decent guy. Yeah, a year ago or so she wouldn't have said no, she was a woman. Her mind boggled that he had all this life experience, yet appeared young. She understood George's reasoning's. Mitchell was a good person, just had the occasional murdering tendencies.

God, when Mitchell brought Lucy into the cottage, she wanted to throttle him, and then Lucy. After everything, how could he just forgive and forget. In all fairness, she knew what Mitchell would do to Kemp, and it wouldn't involve a sympathetic hand. If he hadn't brought back Lucy, they would never have seen Annie again.

Thinking back to when she first met Annie, one thing constantly drove her mad. She was sharing residence with someone who new what lay beyond death. Annie was a walking, talking temptation of what was next and yet she could never ask her. Nina questioned George if he knew back in Bristol; however he said they never told him. They? She'd never considered Mitchell would know, it made sense now considering he died to become what he is. She pestered George for more, but he was resilient.

Standing in the hallway a couple of days after Annie's return, she couldn't help but overhear Mitchell and George's conversation. Didn't mean to overhear, worried about Annie. _"What happened to her Mitchell? Where was she?". There was a pregnant pause and Nina knew exactly what they were discussing. "Honestly? I don't know. She hasn't said anything about it," Mitchell sighed, "she won't say anything about it". _A silent understanding followed. Mitchell and Annie had shared the dark secret about death. Mitchell being out of the loop was unsettling. Not knowing was probably worse than knowing. It meant it was bad.

Nina was aware George had been doing his best, being proactive as usual. He never said Annie's name out loud, as though it would shatter his stability. And no one touched the kettle; she learned that the hard way.

So she supported George as much as she could, avoided Mitchell when possible, and dove into her research. Hell, since she caught Lucy's attention, she surely could find Annie. She became obsessed. She despised Lucy's book of utter bullshit, yet she couldn't quite bin it. It lay as a constant reminder of how Nina could be perceived by outsiders.

Laughter, actual gurgling laughter, brought Nina back to observing the reunited three, squeezed around the cramped kitchen table. George was jabbering on about his new job in the cafe, mentioning some sort of sheep invasion, while Annie and Mitchell chuckled with his over exaggerated gestures. They were far chirpier, was that the expression? Heads held a little higher and after a while they'd even started using the kettle again. She noticed Annie still never made tea or coffee, in fact she still had not touched the kettle. Not yet anyway. They made sure Annie was never alone and she relished the company.

For the first time in a good while she felt more at ease and actually allowed a faint, effortless smile to etch her face. It was an odd sensation to feel the corner of her lips twitch. For two months, anger, guilt and sadness had ruled their shadowed lives. The void of negative emotions was finally broken.

When Annie first appeared, Nina struggled to muffle her horror. The ragged Annie was a long way off from the warm, bubbly Annie she'd met before; a complete shock to the system. From a nurses perspective, and friends, the returning colour to Annie's face and bouncy curls, relieved her worried heart. George would have struggled to move on if Annie's appearance had not change for the better. At least he slept easier now.

The greatest change was in Mitchell. He smiled, now, although his face appeared edged with an unpleasant knowledge of what he had done, or become. A smile ragged with the consequences.

Nina was very conscious of the closeness between Mitchell and Annie. Chairs scooted so close together their bodies were almost touching, Mitchell's hand lightly caressing Annie's lower back, supporting her, Annie twisting the Celtic rings on his fingers. She adored how blissfully unaware George was. She was pretty sure Annie and Mitchell were unaware of their actions too. Probably needed their heads banged together, Nina chuckled. A little loudly because three pairs of eyes spun around expectantly. Nina pointed to her coffee, "Went down the wrong way".

Nina had never really thought about what they would do now, they had found Lucy and Kemp, they had brought back Annie. They couldn't live sheltered forever. She'd heard about the lists George made, laughed about them, but now she wished she had one. Where do they go from here? What now?

**Thanks for reading! **


	3. Teeth

He would never forget the day Annie was taken from them, the day when time stopped. All that remained was pain and guilt, stuck in an echoing cottage, no merry greetings or daft trivia for the day. If Mitchell could take back all the awful things he'd done, all the horrible things he had said; he would do so in a second just to have Annie back. He didn't care if she shouted or screamed at him; at least she'd be back where she belonged, with them…with him.

And fuck did she scream at him.

When she first arrived back, he'd been scared. She was so eerily quiet. George was freaking out, that this wasn't their Annie. They had to remember it would take time.

Annie, his angel of reality and consequence, had given him a day of peacefulness before she flashed a shadowed version of her famous 'we need to talk now' glare. He was in the doghouse and for some reason it made the whole dreamlike world they'd been living in the past four months feel like the old days.

So he'd sat heavily on the single bed, keeping still, focusing his senses for one brief moment downstairs where George paced apprehensively, heart beating frantically, before returning his full attention to Annie, back facing him, shoulders tensed as she silently closed the heavy bedroom door. With no one holding her, she was always tense as though anticipating something.

Christ, he had been nervous, heart twisting and thumping, not unusual since their departure from Bristol. Nervous contemplating if he'd crack, give in to his nature, nervous he'd reveal all the gruesome details of his killing sprees to George.

He thought going clean would be harder this time. Surprisingly, it wasn't. Yeah, it was a struggle, it took a lot to not kill Lucy, but it was different. Now he had George, and Nina, to remain clean for. The thudding pain, dimmed but still ever present, left by Annie's departure, silenced the lust. If the pain stopped, it would be over, and Annie would officially be gone. He couldn't explain how he felt her go, well if he was honest, he knew now. It's funny how you don't realise what you've got until it's gone.

In this moment, it was Annie who got his heart in a panicked frenzy. The jumpity rhythm produced by his heart continued now she was back and safe with them. Every time he watched her, every moment he touched her, held her, made him nervous. In a good way though, that was new.

It was going to happen sooner or later, he knew Annie was pissed with him, had that look in her eyes; conflictions, anger, sorrow. A look which hit him just as bad as sharp pain of her departure. He'd really fucked it up this time.

Her voice cracked as she spoke, breaking through the thick silent air, hammering down his weakened stature. "_I know everything, Mitchell. At least up till Kemp". _At the time he couldn't tell if her smirk produced by the bastards name, worried or defiant, was a good or bad thing.

And that's how it started. He pleaded, needing her to understand. What he'd lost sight of. Shouting, not at Annie, just a build up of emotions, lack of sleep, withdrawal; seeping through uncontrollably.

With time he kept silent, voice drying out, granting her lectures to burst the secluded bubble he'd been living in. He didn't question how she knew exactly; it was time to face his actions, what he had released back into the world. A lecture he needed to hear.

The sharpness in her voice, oddly refreshing, stung none the less. _George doesn't know does he? How could you let this happen? Control…Lucy…We could have helped you! Innocent people. No excuse…And Herrick! _

He finally broke his silence when she began blaming herself; that she was engrossed by her own self pity, falling apart, blind to the signs. This was not her fault.

He really freaked out as she slid down the door into the cold floor, eyes so tired, lifeless, talking only to herself;_ "It's my fault. I was stupid to think ignoring the door would be fine, you know. I didn't realise they were waiting for me…"._

He'd scrambled to the floor beside her, suddenly worried he'd lose Annie in the small distance of the bedroom. The memory of her face would always linger in his mind, as he knelt in front of her, pulling his gloves off in a quick sweep, cupping her face in his shaking hands. Pale skin, eyes not quite as bright as before, haunted; all he wanted was to ease her aching soul, bring a smile back. From his limited knowledge on ghosts, he'd remembered some needed touch, absorb a little energy. He was recharging her so to speak.

The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips stirred confusing feelings he had kept lodged down, out of the way. He wasn't ready to delve into whatever was occurring between him and Annie. She was back now, that's all that mattered and he'd be damned if anyone hurt her again; including himself.

"_Do you remember before we left for the facility, in the kitchen, you told George to stay away from the cities?"_. Mitchell had nodded stiffly, memory unshakable.

"_What about me? If George was cured, who would see me?"_. Realisation hit her eyes, a little spark.

"_Did you know I was going to cross over?"_. He explained it to her; couldn't let her stay, not to witness this monster he'd become, cared too much about her for that to happen…still did.

When Annie squeezed him into a tight hug, he felt at more at peace, that they could finally move on. He asked her when he should break the bombshell to George, knowing George would never forgive him.

Funny, he'd always been the one George and Annie turned to for guidance, for help, and now it was Annie who held the voice of reason, _"Let's hold back and settle for a couple of days. Then __**we'll **__tell him. No more secrets"_.

Later that night, Mitchell woke up with a start, groggily scanning the dark; his bedroom, a warm body curled beside him on the bed… Annie, he remembered, asleep. She was having a nightmare, cries muffled by the lumpy pillow and he was almost certain the cause of her distress. Carefully, Mitchell pulled her closer to him, warm tears pricking his own eyes as he swiped her own, wanting only to remove her memories of that place. No, he wasn't going to push her, if she wanted to tell them where she was, she would in her own time. And one day she would.

Mitchell lay awake for the remainder of the night, holding her sleeping form as Annie slowly reached a peaceful slumber, easing his worried tinged heart strings. There was a stark difference in her now, he noticed; she was solid, skin not as spongy or cold, the touch of her hair like silk thread. Not misty, she felt real; the soft curve of her face, her tears actually soaking his fingers and t-shirt rather than instantly evaporating. He would later pick up the smell of sweet roses, filling his head with dizzy thoughts of spring.

By late morning she woke, a tangled mess of curls, duvet and sunlight, squeaking as she stretched, curling her bare toes, knocking the duvet to the floor. Mitchell chuckled, a foreign sound after so long; she really does hog the covers. His voice held a rusty morning tone to it, "You were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you".

She tensed; remembering the dream, a tiny edge of worry crept in as her eyes glazed over. Annie always kept a brave face for them, but he knew, used to always know when something wasn't quite right. The tension was short lived though as she smiled, too ungroggily for a normal person waking up, "I fell great actually, refreshed".

Sheepishly, Annie removed her hand which had crawled its way under his top during the night, resting gently on the area which had pained him so greatly. He'd been solely focussed on Annie being home, he only just registered the pain had completely stopped.

In fact, the pain stopped when they got Annie back, ceased and a whole flourish of emotions he had forgotten about returned. It wasn't a dream anymore.

Reluctantly, Mitchell allowed Annie to drag him to his feet, the freezing floor shocking any morning grog from his system. George and Nina were cooking downstairs, and the aromas fluttered seductively into the room. As he observed Annie pull her cardigan back on, he knew in that instant, he would change his ways for them. Mitchell wouldn't take them for granted again.


	4. Speechless

**Thank you all for reading and leaving reviews, you're all stars! This took ages to get, what I felt, just right. Didn't want to make Mitchell too angsty cause you lot are a way better at that than me. Anyway, enjoy!**

Initially, Annie couldn't understand why most of the other souls in the crowded waiting remained silent; no one acknowledging her presence, her cries and questions. It was beyond frustrating. She wanted to shake them, force them to listen, even flicker a glimmer of eye contact. Why wouldn't they answer her?

The others, the ones who weren't silent, whispered about her. They stared, some even glared, all too frightened to approach her; she was the black sheep, the first to reject death, or co-habit with a vampire and a werewolf. Apparently, that was a disgrace.

With time she understood. The silence wasn't out of respect, no, if you spoke to the newcomers, they'd drag you into their black hole of despair and desperation. So she became one of the emotionless silent ones, not even sensing the fresh crying faces, ignoring the stares, the background slowly fizzing into a dark blur.

By this point Annie had given up, positive her message to her boys after Kemp would be her final goodbye. After that little trick with Kemp, _they _had been furious, angry enough already with her little door dodges. _They _had to control her, set an example.

That's when they brought those cold, thin silver chains, the darkness and punishment. She tried to imagine the good old days, her little pink house and laughter. Her dad always told her to imagine the things she loved when she was frightened. They put a stop to that quickly.

Her throat still felt raw, not from her initial screams, but her final silence.

And pop, she was back. Shocking, an unimaginable surprise nonetheless. Complete sensory overload; sounds crashing her eardrums, bright lights blinding her watery unaccustomed eyes, hugs, kisses and tears confusing her shell of a soul. That muffled feeling when you stand too close to speakers at a concert.

God, she probably gave them all a fright just standing there like a zombie. It was all so overwhelming. Never did Annie believe she'd be granted a second chance. She didn't care how she got back, she only wanted to remember how it felt to be touched, to feel and speak.

Not in her wildest dreams did Annie think she'd be here, arms entwined with a rather overexcited George, acting like the little tour guide for their new residence as they walked down the bumpy country roads.

She pinched herself, not just to test this was reality and not some cruel dream, but also because she could actually feel the nipping pain it induced. She could actually feel; the breeze, sunlight, and her clothes – the rules had changed apparently. Still dead as a ghost could be, no pulse, just a little different now.

The hazy sunlight warmed Annie's cool skin. It actually was pretty beautiful here, peaceful, just what they needed until all hell broke loose. She couldn't suppress the small grin twitching her face as George pointed out all the different sheep fields, rushing his words like a gossiping house wife.

All George's little expressions and gestures were like rewards to Annie, traits that Annie engraved into her memory. She didn't realise how much she'd miss him. As with Mitchell, his protectiveness, charm and Irish twang. That was the Mitchell she knew; not the blood fuelled monster who leered over her in the kitchen, frightening her. Annie being Annie, could forgive him, she knew the guilt was eating him up. It's all in the past now, and her sole purpose is the present.

The future would contain a good dose of healing, Annie was sure. Of course, explaining to George and Mitchell what happened…well, that wouldn't aid their healing one bit. No, they didn't need to know; Mitchell maybe in time. Not ever George.

She couldn't tell them she was scared of the night; more specifically, being left alone. The first night had been ok, the three of them crowding the couch until morning, Nina observing in the background, keeping a slight distance.

The following night, fear swept through, an unwelcomed visitor. It had been late by the time she literally commanded George to bed with a thankful looking Nina. She remembered claustrophobia setting in as her mind played tricks; shadows in her peripheral vision resembling doors, creaks and cracks pulsing shivers down her spine.

Annie recalled a tired Mitchell returning from the kitchen taking one look at her before prying her hand from the cushions, pulling and guiding her to his room. She felt uncharacteristically intrusive, wholly intending to sit all night on the little chair occupying the pretty much empty room. So she felt a little bashful as Mitchell patted the space beside him, beckoning her to join him. Annie produced a weak response that'd she'd hog all the covers, while removing her Uggs and cardigan automatically, the need for physical contact overpowering her politeness.

Mitchell grunted a reply, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, instantly falling into a deep sleep. She relished in the warmth of his arms, the material of his top gently grazing her skin. Despite never sharing a bed with Mitchell before, it felt completely natural and safe. Her mind was clear of all that had happened, calm, and Mitchells light snores lulled Annie into the first sleep she'd had since death.

After that sleep, she had felt amazing, completely recharged and finally a little more like her real self.

Annie didn't need to cling onto George to absorb energy from him; now it was just like old times, good friend style as they rounded the corner, feet crunching on the gravel, the cottage merging into view.

Spotting Mitchell and Nina waiting awkwardly for their return, finishing their cigarettes, Annie could sense tension lingering between the two; George believed it was slightly better now though and eventually they'd reach a mutual understanding.

Annie smirked as George pulled his arm free, jogging over to Nina to plant a sloppy kiss on her lips. She was ecstatic the couple had settled their differences and found each other again.

Mitchell sauntered over with a lopsided grin, as Annie shivered in the late afternoon breeze, ruffling her cardigan. To her relief, he was looking less exhausted, still drowning in angst but a heck of a lot better. A glimmer of the Mitchell she knows returning somewhat.

Puzzled, Annie accepted the scarf Mitchell tugged off and wrapped carefully around her neck, wondering how he knew she was solid. The puzzlement quickly dissolved when Mitchell kissed her cheek, lingering, and a warm sensation trickled to her face in what she presumed a faint blush. The pair remained completely unaware of Nina prodding George and pointing in their direction, George huffing and puffing.

There was enough time to ponder on whatever pull was drawing her and Mitchell together. Time was in the plenty.

Now, she was back, happy and loved; things would be different. No more secrets and hopefully, they would learn from their mistakes.


End file.
